


Right Buttons

by Willa_Owl



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5009386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willa_Owl/pseuds/Willa_Owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Franky and Erica discover their penchant for dominance and submission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set approximately six years after Franky's parole. Franky and Erica are living together and have been in a relationship for about 18 months. Since leaving Wentworth, Franky has been careful not to let anger or violence be part of her life. But by instinctively reading Erica's signals she finds a mutually beneficial way to express her darker urges.
> 
> I would like to give a shoutout to Ceeahrr whose recent works inspired me to explore the d/s theme.

“Ok tell me what happened."

“What do you mean?"

Erica was standing grumpily at the foot of the steps outside her office, wrapped in scarf and coat against the unseasonal September chill and carrying a heavy bag in each hand.

"Whatever it is that's put you in such a pissy mood"

Franky took the larger bag and slung it easily over her shoulder. They began to walk towards the car park.

"Nothing to say."

"Yeah there is. What is it?"

"Just a pissy day, like you said; don't imagine yours was any better. I got Justice Atkins again.”

"Uh-huh. Still think she’s got it in for you?"

“She shouldn’t have personal biases against certain lawyers, OK? It's unprofessional ..."

Franky attempted a noncommittal shrug under the weight of Erica's bag. It didn't matter, Erica was looking at the ground rather than her.

"... I swear as soon as she sees me walk into the room her decision is already made."

“You’re kind of..."

Franky's voice trailed off. She didn't want this argument at any time, let alone tonight. As Erica had guessed, her own day had been fraught enough. And part of her agreed: Justice Atkins wasn’t Erica’s biggest fan. She wasn’t going to let Erica use that as a cop out though.

"... you’re kind of overreacting a bit."

Erica stopped in her tracks, as if she had walked into a wall.

“You were there and saw what happen did you?” she asked in a viciously sarcastic tone.

Franky sighed, perhaps a little too obviously. It was going to be one of those evenings. They were blocking the footpath in the middle of the five o'clock rush to the car park; across the road the tram queue was overflowing the pavement; it was freezing cold. Franky really wanted to get into a hot bath.

“I’m just saying…”

Franky felt Erica's hand at the back of her neck, as if to pull Franky's mouth down to her own. Kissing in anger was hardly Erica’s style. Franky's shoulder tensed against it, but then Erica stopped with a sad, guilty look instead. Her voice sounded very small and vulnerable.

“I’m sorry. Can we go home now please? I'm really tired."

"Of course we can.”

*******  
In an effort to cheer Erica up, Franky surprised her with a day trip to the country on Saturday. Morning coffee in a nice cafe; walking slowly round the town enjoying the fresh air; street market and lunch overlooking the Goulburn River. It was a beautiful afternoon, with sun warm on their faces, but Erica's mood refused to lift. She was down and tired and felt guilty that she might be ruining their day away.

"Anything I can do?"

Franky looked kind. Erica did her very best to smile back.

"Sorry, just feeling crappy this week."

“Do you want to drag me round that antique place you mentioned?"

Erica looked at Franky, sitting casually in one of the wicker chairs that the restaurant used in their alfresco dining area. Was there anything she could do? Of course there was everything and nothing, and Erica knew very well that Franky would do anything at all. Whatever effort she could make to cheer Erica up would be given freely and unconditionally, that was simply how and who Franky was. Everything except the one thing that Erica really needed just now, because Erica could never ask her for it. 

Erica could have easily spent a whole day wandering through the four-storey labyrinth of converted Victorian mill that housed the antiques market. Franky tagged along, flicking through the second-hand books and critically examining the Minette Walters, but mainly just content to share Erica's pleasure. Here they were easy in each other's company. Erica was looking at a stand of assorted statuettes when something caught her eye. It was a Deco flapper, teddy straps sliding down her arms and breasts peeking saucily out, both hands behind her back to grasp a riding crop. Erica was intrigued by it, even though most would consider it not to be her taste. When Franky appeared at her shoulder, she quickly looked at another piece.

Franky wandered over to the other end of the stand and lifted down a bronze statuette. It was a running nude, athletic but unmistakably female, with a modest drapery wrapped ridiculously between its legs. Erica went over and looked at it more closely. It was rather lovely, although she would be quite lost to explain exactly why. The long hair and streaming ends of the drape gave it a genuine feel of movement. She was surprised, it wasn't really Franky's style any more than it was hers.

"You like that?"

"I do. What do you think?"

Erica couldn't explain it to herself, but the idea of it in their home appealed to her.

"I think we should. How much?"

"My present."

Erica sat back and looked out of the car window as she reflected on the day. It had, all things considered, been pretty good. She was certainly glad they had made the effort rather than sitting glumly at home. She felt the comforting presence of the best friend she had ever had beside her, felt their hands gently entwined. She knew, with complete confidence, that Franky would show her love in any way she ever asked for.

_Anything I can do to help?_

_Sometimes I feel so tired. Sometimes I just want to kick back and have every single choice made for me; sometimes I want to be a silly naughty child with no responsibilities. Sometimes I would so like to be nothing more than your submissive, obedient whore. ___

__Erica looked out of the window at the flat countryside whirling past, and squeezed Franky's hand. She felt Franky squeezing back._ _

__*****_ _

__

__Erica woke with a start of disgust at herself. She took a deep breath before looking to her side. There was enough light through the thin curtains to make out Franky soundly asleep against her shoulder; she could hear that soft and infinitely cute snuffling almost-snore she knew so well, could feel breath on her neck. She could remember no other emotion in her life that came close to the intensity of her love for Franky._ _

__But now she desperately needed to come. She was awake, and unable to get back to sleep, and simply needing. The irony of it all made her want to weep: Franky had taken her early to bed and spent a luxurious candlelit evening being soft and patient with her; Franky had been selfless and giving until her own tongue must have cramped beyond endurance and Erica's frustration tipped over into actively painful. Then Franky had hushed her apologies and kissed away her sniffles, and given her loving arms to fall asleep in. None of that had worked, except when her mind had wandered to other thoughts and she almost came to them, but pulled herself back to the here and now in time. And Franky had been understanding throughout, as she always was._ _

__Erica thought back to other times: to Franky just as caring but more vigorous; to Franky's thigh between hers and Franky's body moving on top of her. Most of all she thought back to the feeling of Franky's hands on her wrists, pushing them down against the mattress with all the power and weight of Franky above her…and on beyond that, to the things that had never happened between them but were so real in her imagination._ _

__She was so bloody desperate for it. The need drew her hand guiltily downwards._ _

__"What do you think you're doing?"_ _

__Franky hadn't moved, her head was still on the pillow and her eyes closed._ _

__"I'm ... err ... Nothing."_ _

__"Liar ..."_ _

__Erica had never heard the tone before. It wasn't anger or disappointment, or even that gruff voice Franky used on people before she got to know them. It was a flat, almost bored, monotone._ _

__"... you were going to touch yourself, weren't you?"_ _

__“Uh….”_ _

__"Well go on then, don't let me stop you."_ _

__Franky pulled the duvet back over herself, exposing Erica, before reaching over to switch on her bedside lamp. The sudden flare of even that small bulb made Erica shrink against the white sheet. She felt utterly embarrassed, guilty at being discovered. Franky pulled herself up on one elbow and looked down at her. Erica reached for the corner of the duvet, but Franky slapped her hand away._ _

__"Ow!"_ _

__"Do what I say, Erica ..."_ _

__Franky's fingertips stroked for a few sensuous seconds across Erica's breast, and then fixed on her nipple. Erica met her eyes; saw the coldness in them as she exerted the faintest promise of pressure._ _

__"... I won't be so gentle if I have to tell you a second time."_ _

__Erica couldn't help closing her eyes as the shock of it all tingled down through her body and settled in her groin. Oh please, yes. As she reached between her own legs, Franky let go of her nipple. Once more Franky slapped her hand down._ _

__"But I think you should ask nicely, don't you?”_ _

__Erica felt stunned, terrified, elated and painfully aroused all at once. This was something she knew that she wanted, _knew that she needed _, but it was suddenly happening so fast. She did as she was told.___ _

____"Please, Franky. Please may I touch myself."_ _ _ _

____"Not like that. If I'm not good enough for you, I think you deserve a proper treat. Go and get your vibrator."_ _ _ _

____Erica felt the fantasy running out of control as it crashed into their real world. Fantasies are fantastic, after all, not every one is something you want to play out for real. She realised that part of her shame and reluctance was deliciously pretended, but as much of it was suddenly true. She couldn't look at Franky. She found herself shaking her head._ _ _ _

____Franky's hand cupped her face, then slid round the back of her neck. Fingers caressing in her hair. She wanted to burrow into Franky's shoulder and ..._ _ _ _

____Franky pulled her hair firmly back and looked into her eyes._ _ _ _

____"You can go and get your vibrator now ... Or you can go and get your vibrator after I've slapped your face for you."_ _ _ _

____Erica wanted Franky to turn the light back out and cuddle her; wanted it to stop; wanted to pretend she couldn't feel herself throbbing desperately for more of the same._ _ _ _

____It wasn't even _her _vibrator. It wasn't some selfish secret she hid in her bedside drawer for solitary self-indulgence. It was theirs; kept with a few other things in that box at the bottom of the wardrobe and bought out once in a while to tease and play together. It wasn't what Franky made it sound like at all. She got out of bed and walked across the room, feeling Franky's gaze on her bare back.___ _ _ _

______"Bring me your dressing gown first ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______For the first time in eighteen months the easy comfort in being naked around each other deserted her. She rooted about in the wardrobe and retrieved vibrator and lubricant._ _ _ _ _ _

______"... I don't think we need that."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Sorry?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Leave it there. Unless you want to come over here and prove to me that you're not wet enough already."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Erica felt small and dirty. What had she thought yesterday in the car? A silly naughty child? Caught out being dirty with herself, and now it was time to be punished and entirely humiliated. She wished she could return to the bed by walking backwards; she didn't want Franky to stare so disapprovingly at her. She felt thoroughly ashamed to be watched so calmly as she walked around the room with a sex toy in her hand. She sat back down on the edge of the bed and didn't have the first clue what to do with herself._ _ _ _ _ _

______"On your back, knees out ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______She did as she was told, feeling as if she had no choice in the matter. Franky reached out to the toy in Erica's hand and switched it on full. Erica choked on her shock as it buzzed up to her elbow. Making love with Franky was sex, there was no doubting that, but it was a soft and romantic thing: kissing and stroking; tongue and lips and the gentlest of vibrations lightly on wrists and areolae and back of the neck; slow sharing along the winding route to intense orgasm in each other's arms. It was not, had never been, feeling like she had a masonry drill in her hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______The command was clear in Franky's eyes, but she obviously had no intention of giving Erica the easy excuse of verbal orders. Erica laid the buzzing length along herself. The first touch arched her spine and drew a deep grunt from her throat: it was so gloriously, brutally different to anything she was used to._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Beg for me."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Please. Please, Franky ... Please ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______She didn't even know exactly what she was begging for. She was simply following the orders; surrendering entirely to the sensation between her legs and the voice beside her head._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Be the slut that you are, give yourself what you want. Stick that thing right up your pussy while I watch ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Forcing inside; too big for comfort; too violent for pleasure ... Too much, just too much of everything. Shaking and sweating from the suddenness of the overwhelming assault, hearing her own moaning as if it was less a part of herself than Franky's cold contemptuous voice._ _ _ _ _ _

______"... you cheap, dirty, filthy ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Ohhhh god…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Franky's hand locked on her wrist and dragged it roughly away, pulling the vibrator from inside her and leaving it juddering obscenely in her grip. Franky snapped her fingers and pointed at the foot of the bed._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I've had enough of looking at your face. Over there."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Erica did as she was told, let herself be posed by Franky's curt gestures until she was kneeling with her back to Franky and her legs apart. When Franky told her to she switched the vibrator off and bent over until her face was in the sheet. When Franky told her to she pushed it back inside herself. She was entirely dehumanised: a splay-legged cunt in Franky's face, stretched tight around seven inches of ribbed plastic in pretty girly pink that she thrust in and out on command. No personality at all, simply the cheapest and most degraded of pornographic displays for Franky's amusement. And the thrill of it all bringing her to the brink of the most intense orgasm she had known in her life, building deep inside and the shuddering tension of her thighs. So very close to complete ..._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Stop. All the way out ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Franky took it from her hand, teased it lightly between her lips and for one brief moment of irresistible terror pushed the end of it against her bottom. Then it was gone._ _ _ _ _ _

______"... I'll put this somewhere safe. If you want to play with it again, you'll have to ask me nicely."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Franky, please ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"What?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What?” Franky repeated, her tone more angry._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I really want to come now."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Lie back down. I still don't want to see your face."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Erica felt her hands pulled behind her back, and realised Franky was tying her wrists with the belt from her own dressing gown._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Please."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"I want you to apologise for spoiling my night's sleep. Say sorry to me."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Franky pushed at the back of her knee to guide her thigh up towards her belly. Franky's skilful and practised hand stroked against her frustration._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I apologise, Franky. I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm sorry I'm such a bad girl ..."_ _ _ _ _ _

______The voice was quiet but still commanding in her ear._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Don't stop speaking. If you stop, so will I."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"... I'm sorry. Please forgive me for being so bad. Please don't punish me for touching myself. Please don't ... Oh God, Franky ... Please, please ..."_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

Franky popped out at nine to get some orange juice and a protein bar from the corner store. As she paid, she fought off the urge to ask for 50g of Drum and a pack of Tallyho as well. That was a bad sign -- not that she exactly needed any signs today -- she only ever found herself craving when she'd really screwed something up with Erica.

Just what on earth had happened in the middle of the night? She had no idea what had come over her. She had behaved appallingly, let her angry and fiery streak come out, and whatever she might be feeling now she had enjoyed it at the time. As apparently had Erica, but that was hardly the point. She couldn't help stealing a glance at the magazines on her way out, there were some gaping-cleavage lads' mags on display. Nasty, exploitative disrespectful stuff; not too dissimilar to the pictures that used to adorn her cell at Wentworth. She didn't want any part of that any more, that wasn't what making love with Erica was all about. It wasn't what life with her was about. 

She returned to the house and began vacuuming the living room. Ever since she had given up smoking she had become an obsessive cleaner. She contemplated some old words she had once read: 'with my body I thee worship'? That was how it was supposed to work with Erica. Respect, love, support; making her understand every moment how precious she is to you. Not 'with thy body I play sleazy power games'. That may have been part of the dynamic they shared when they first met at Wentworth but hadn’t they both matured beyond that? She thought back to the previous night. It was those games that had made Erica scream her release into the pillow and hold her so tight afterwards.

Erica emerged from bedroom looking more rested and relaxed than she had in weeks. She suggested that they go out for brunch at around 11am. Franky agreed, even though she knew that it would probably mean giving last night the post-mortem it deserved. But it had to be faced, and sooner would be better than later.

Brunchtime came and they kept things simple, going to one of their favorite little cafeterias that was nearby. Franky queued and paid and took their tray over to the corner double table Erica had managed to find.

"Thanks."

“No worries. Erica ..."

“Yes, hon."

That was Erica, unless she was depressed or angry she would just call Franky 'hon' without thinking. Normally Franky found it reassuring, she never thought it was a meaningless automatic gesture. But not today; today it just made her feel guilty.

"... about our elephant."

"Last night?"

"Err ... Yeah ..."

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

“You were right with what you did. I really needed it.”

"But I ..."

Erica lowered her voice and grinned.

"Gave me a bit of a hard time, didn’t you? Are you going to do it again when we get home?"

"What?! No! Bloody hell, no. I feel like shit about it."

Everything was turning inside-out for Franky. She had behaved appallingly, and Erica looked happier than she had for months; she tried to apologise, and Erica looked suddenly insulted. They lapsed into silent eating for a few minutes. When Erica spoke again she kept her eyes on her plate.

"Why do you get the food?"

"You know what it's like getting a table in this place. If we both queued we'd never find a seat."

"Why is it always you."

"It just is. You hate queuing."

"So do you."

"I can manage."

"Who usually pays?"

"I suppose I do. It's just a habit. Why are we talking about this?"

"Why is it always you, Franky?"

She didn't want to say it. It sounded condescending: 'there, there, little woman'. She never meant it that way. She mumbled the answer at her food.

“I like looking after you."

"I like you doing it."

"I'm really sorry about last night."

“We’ll talk about it later, ok? When we get home?"

"Alright."

"Franky, I really didn't mind at all. I'd like to do it again."

They went home that night, and talked some more without reaching any conclusion. Franky went upstairs and ran a hot bath, and as she was waiting she busied herself tidying the bedroom. For some reason the shopping bags from Saturday had ended up upstairs. She sorted them out and took a few things down to the living room.

Then it was time for Erica to bring a bottle and two glasses upstairs; for lights and music both soft and low and Franky taking her time washing Erica's back and arms before climbing in behind to kiss her shoulders and share time and wine until the water cooled and they went to bed instead. For kissing and holding in the luxury of clean skin on clean sheets; mouth to mouth and breast to breast. For all the things that in Franky's heart were the suitable and proper way to express how she felt for Erica. And then to the perfect incomparable joy of thighs tense on her shoulders, and back arching to her, and her lover's hips pushing orgasmically back against her mouth. Back, after that moment of madness, to who they were.

*****

Erica had taken the tram, and by the time Franky came indoors after her late meeting there was already a smell of cooking in the house. Franky dropped her keys beside the statuette on the telephone table in the living room and walked through to the kitchen.

"Good day at the office?"

Franky shrugged at the old joke. It had, in fact, been more than usually irritating, but that just made it even better to come home to this.

"Not great, had the clients from hell. How was yours?"

Erica didn't say anything. There seemed to be a little more violence than usual in the way she tipped water out of the potato saucepan.

"Fancy a wine, or are you in the mood for a real drink?"

"Seriously, everything OK?"

“Yes I'm just a grump at the moment, sorry.”

“Can I do anything to help?"

"Yes: get out of my way and let me look after you once in a while. Please."

“A wine would be great. Thanks."

Franky knew Erica far too well to argue or fuss, or even give her that quick kiss on the back of her neck that was so hard to resist. So she wandered back into the living room and idly picked through the post instead. Erica bought in two glasses, and sat for a few minutes to share the wine before she had to go back to the kitchen. They chatted easily: the small, inconsequential everyday things of deep friendship. Franky found herself looking more than casually at Erica as they talked. Erica checked her watch and went back to the kitchen. Franky watched the sway of her hips as she passed.

Erica was sexy, always had been. Franky also found her beautiful. They loved each other, and found each other attractive: they were both sexual people, and they expressed themselves together sexually. But just how 'adventurous' were she and Erica? Well there was that vibrator, of course, but those were pretty tame and universal these days. The strap-on had been Erica's idea: too much to drink and too giggly over the laptop one weekend, but they did not use it frequently. They were more than capable of making love together using the resources that nature provided them. Anyone who thought two women needed a substitute penis to keep themselves amused really needed to open their eyes a little to reality.

So there it was. Did that make her unadventurous? She really could get rather excited about Erica in some of those thin lacy ... And just who had decided that making love had to be an adventure, anyway? It was making love, that was enough for its own sake. That was everything.

She took a sip of wine and realised how long she must have been sitting there pondering on sex. What on earth had gotten into her recently? Work, for both of them, was increasingly crappy, prices of everything were going through the roof, the whole world was going to hell in a hand basket -- and all she could do was mope around the place trying not to have sex fantasies about someone she thought the world of. When exactly had thoughts of 'you're so beautiful to me' started turning into 'I want to put you on your knees and fuck you hard'?

"Everything OK?"

"Err ... Yeah, fine."

"Be about twenty minutes."

Erica stroked her face. It was like an electric shock; as if the softly trailing fingertips were circling her nipple, teasing between her legs. She looked at the pretty, sweet, face and her imagination saw the way it had looked with eyes closed and head thrown back panting the Saturday before last. She felt the same compulsion sloshing in her stomach and closing her throat.

"Take off your belt."

"Pardon?"

She reached out and hooked her fingers inside the waist of Erica's trousers to pull her closer. Without another word she undid Erica's belt herself and pulled it free of the loops.

"Kneel down."

She draped the thin black belt around Erica's neck and pulled until she felt the first, tiniest hint of resistance. There was no way to buckle it in place so far past the last hole, so she simply left it there with the free end hanging between Erica's breasts and pointing so obviously towards her sex. Erica was looking down, looking away from her. She could see the slight tremor in Erica's parted lips, the flutter in her fine soft eyelashes. If Erica had said anything, she would have stopped, but Erica didn't. Franky made a slight raising motion with her hand and Erica stood back up. Complete control, obedience to the subtlest gesture. Intoxicating.

"Pull down your trousers."

Erica's hands fumbling at the zip, easing them off her hips and pushing down her legs to bunch at her ankles. Erica straightening up again to stand vulnerable with her eyes down and her hands hanging at her sides. Pale smooth thighs looking helpless in front of Franky; her knickers teasingly glimpsed through the hanging tails of her blouse.

Franky nodded towards the door: you can go back to cooking for me now.

 

Erica's trousers caught round her ankles, making her take short little steps as if she was hobbled. Insulting, degrading: she was mincing around like some bloody geisha fantasy. It wasn't even sexy: trousers all the way off and legs spread would be sexy, this was just ...

Just something way, way beyond sexy. This was like the last time -- grunting like an animal under Franky's impassive stare while she felt that her hips would shake loose before she came. Oh God, why had her mind had to pick 'as if hobbled' from all the possible similes? Because now she couldn't get the image of Franky fixing shackles to her ankles out of her head.

She began to turn towards the sound of footsteps, but Franky's hand to her shoulder stopped her. Franky pushed her against the sink and pulled the back of her knickers down to the top of her thighs. Franky's left hand lifted her blouse clear, and she felt the right cupping and stroking over her backside. One sudden, stinging slap without warning and the blouse dropped back.

"Wear something sexier next time. Understood?"

"Yes ..."

She looked out of the window, at their garden still in daylight. She could, but wouldn't, put her clothes back in order. She could pull the blinds, but found she didn’t want to. Even so there was, she realised, nothing outrageously apparent, even if someone did choose to peek over the fence. The front of her undies was still, barely, between her and indecent exposure. Her bum was all on show, but safely below the level of the windows. There was a leather belt round her throat like a dog collar and lead, but from any distance it could be taken for a tie, even an apron strap to a casual glance. It was, in fact, all completely safe.

Franky came in and sat at the table when Erica called. Erica didn't know what to do after she set down the plates. She didn't even know what she wanted. Cooking and eating with Franky was such a pleasure, it always had been from they had a home cooked meal together. Part of her wanted to just sit and share the meal together; another wanted to forget the meal and have Franky drag her upstairs to selfishly ride her tongue on the bedroom floor; another wanted to be bent over the table here and now, to be fucked until she screamed. She wanted all of them together.

"Well?"

"Sorry Franky."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just ..."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I'm not wearing something sexier for you."

Franky took the end of the belt and pulled Erica down across her lap. Head down in her own kitchen, with the leather pressing round her throat and her backside entirely exposed as Franky's open hand slapped down again and again. Over Franky's knee for six stinging spanks as she fought the urge to spread her legs under the blows, desperate for Franky's fingers forcing inside her at the end.

Franky did nothing of the sort. She simply guided Erica back upright and started to eat her meal. Erica perched her smarting bare backside on the edge of the chair in a state of frustrated shameless arousal. From time to time Franky would take a piece of food, from her plate or Erica's, and offer the fork up to Erica's mouth.

When she had finished eating, Franky picked up her drink and went back towards the living room.

"Take your trousers and knickers right off, see to the washing-up, then come through so I can use you."

How strange that a tiny thing like that should be almost too much. It was never something as formal as a rule, it was simply the way things had always been: one cooked, the other washed up. It was how the house worked. For a minute she felt genuinely insulted, if Franky thought a little kinky sex turned her into a skivvy ... But she knew it wasn't meant that way. They needed a break between the acts; they needed a moment to let the food settle; Franky really couldn't do the washing-up just now, that would be silly. So Erica washed the plates, and put the pans in to soak, and felt at once entirely humiliated and quite safe in Franky's control. This really was every bit as blissful as she had always imagined.

When she did go through later, she found Franky laying naked on the rug, waiting comfortably with cushions under her head.

"Come and kneel over here, face my feet."

Erica straddled Franky's face. She was shocked by the simple brilliance of it. She was still partially clothed; she was on top; she was in a position to do any number of things, all dominant and some quite outrageous -- and none of that mattered in the slightest. She was Franky's toy to pose and manipulate once again, she was entirely subordinate. Franky's hands reached up to the all too apparent wetness of her lips, then up inside her loose blouse and toyed casually with her tits. Franky -- whose voice could be so ferocious, turned that voice on her.

"Go down on me, bitch. Lick my clit until I come against your mouth."

Erica bent down: put her tongue on Franky's hot bud and her nose into the damp overwhelming scent of Franky. Whatever guilt-ridden doubts she may have had about this before, she was quite certain Franky was not doing any of it purely to humor her.


	3. Chapter 3

Franky grumped down Collins St with perfect timing to meet Erica at the front of her office. She slung Erica's bag on her shoulder and took the freed hand in hers without breaking stride.

"Fun day?” Erica asked sarcastically.

"Bloody awful."

“I’ll let you spank me later, if you want to work out some of that aggression."

"Don't ever ..."

Franky realised she had snapped at Erica. She shrugged her shoulders and gave Erica's hand a squeeze.

"... Sorry. Please don't say that. Please don't ever think it. I would never, never do that in anger."

"It's alright, it was just a joke. We are going to do it again, aren't we?"

"I don't know ..."

She really didn't. She couldn't pretend to herself that she didn’t find it fun. In fact it was pretty fucking hot in a naughty sort of way. Erica as a sex object; Erica as her plaything; Erica as a cunt. It was a buzz and it was so deliciously intense.

"... if you really want to."

“It doesn't work like that, Franky. I want you to enjoy it too."

Franky wondered whether she should enjoy it. Because she thought of Erica as her lover, and she should treat her with respect. Anything else was unacceptable. Except that her mind moved on, past the strange compulsive games to later, when they were in bed and everything was as good as it had ever been. Except, if she was entirely honest, it was better than it had ever been. Erica had been more relaxed, and so in a way had she. The ecstatic losing of each one in the other's arms was more total now than it used to be. Perhaps that was just the way of things: first passion gives way to something deeper; desperate fumblings give way to knowing exactly what works for your lover; sex simply becomes better and deeper as time passes.

"Maybe. Can't promise."

"I wouldn't want you to. Just feel free to do it when you want."

They reached the car. Franky took the driver's side, like so many other things that was simply a habit. The way things were.

"You know, you are good at it."

"Think so? That something I should be proud of?"

Erica stroked her arm and kissed her cheek.

"You give me something I need, and I'm very grateful for that. Let’s go home …"

***********

Franky woke to the morning birdsong and the feeling of Erica cradled against her. She lay silent for a long time, ignoring the cramp and watching the perfect face at her side, until the eyelids fluttered of their own accord.

"Good morning.” Franky whispered.

She took Erica's face gently in her palm and kissed her mouth, soft and long.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“You look beautiful…”

Erica blushed slightly at the compliment. Then Franky’s tone of voice firmed.

“…go and stand over there, where I can see you properly and you can see yourself properly in the mirror.”

Franky saw exactly the same look on Erica s she’d seen other times she had given her an order: downcast eyes and parted lips; and she felt the reaction to it surge through her chest and throb downwards. Erica slowly moved from the bed and walked to the foot of it, she was standing naked in front of Franky and also in front of their large mirror.

“Look at yourself…” Franky demanded.

Erica turned and observed herself in the mirror, embarrassed. Feeling Franky watching made it feel both better and worse, beyond question it made her look at her body as more sexual than she usually did.

“…Like what you see?"

“I don’t know…” Erica was quiet, shy.

"If I tell you to turn round, bend over and look between your legs so you can see your arse in the mirror ... Would you do that for me, Erica?"

“I don’t think I want to do that, Franky."

"That's alright, Erica, you don't have to. Touch your clit for me instead."

"No. Please ..."

"Yes slut, do what I tell you to. I gave you another choice and you didn't want it, so you can do that ..."

It was very nearly too much. But Erica did it, in the end she would do whatever Franky wanted, because in the end she knew Franky would never quite go too far for her to bear. She stroked her index finger against it and couldn't suppress the groan as soon as she did.

"... As long as you're my slut you will be sexy for me. You will feel sexy for me. I won't accept anything less than that. Now come into my bed, because I'm going to enjoy you. I'm going to feel up your sexy bum and stroke your sexy back. I'm going to enjoy your sexy legs wrapped round mine. I'm going to pull you back by your pretty long hair and bite your sexy neck. I'm going to fuck you, because you're too sexy for me not to. Get back in my bed, Erica."

Erica got under the sheet, and to her surprise Franky pulled her on top of herself. She had always assumed that the submissive position was underneath. But she was exactly where Franky wanted her: straddling Franky's thigh with her hip against the heat of Franky's center; as Franky's hand grabbed her smooth, firm ass and moved her body for the pleasure of them both. Franky told her to push herself up on her arms, and Franky's thick and needy voice told her how fucking good her gorgeous fucking tits looked swinging like that when they fucked each other like this. Franky's leg between hers, and Franky's hands on her back, and the constant sound of Franky's astonishingly filthy voice, carried her to the brink of absolute ...

"Stop …" Franky interjected.

Erica perched motionless, hanging desperately at the edge of release with Franky's hand in her hair.

"... Want to come now?"

"Oh God, please."

"No. Don't move. You stay quite still and don't do anything unless I tell you. If I do tell you, do it without any argument. Do you understand me, Erica?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Hands up and grasp the headboard, tight as you can. Stretch your arms as far as you can reach."

She was perched over Franky's face, breasts hanging and groin thrust down in desperate need. She watched Franky watching her, followed the eyes running over her upper body in slow concentration. She listened to Franky's cold voice and let it slow her own breathing.

Franky gripped her wrists; ran nails along her arms; gasped at their firmness. Franky made her feel more desirable than she could ever remember.

“There. Perfect. Your arms are tied there, Erica, you cannot move them at all. I could do it for real, but I shouldn't need to, I just need to tell and you do. Keep them stretched out above my face looking sexy for me, whatever happens. Until I tell you not to."

"Yes, Franky."

Franky's fingers brushed gently across her face. Hand in her hair once more, stroking.

"Spread your legs for me.”

Franky pulled her hair. Her back arched. All her weight seemed to be thrown onto her groin, driving it down onto Franky. Franky pushed her finger into Erica's mouth and Erica sucked on it. Franky's thigh flexed under her pussy, tensing and relaxing in time to the finger thrusting in her mouth. The finger she was desperately moaning around.

"Do not move, bitch. You move now and I'll slap you until you weep. I'll tie your hands behind your back and your legs apart and I'll leave you alone in your spare room all weekend without coming. Nothing to look forward to except me coming in every few hours to use your tongue as a fuck toy and walk out again without speaking to you. Do not move unless I tell you to."

Abandonment to sensation: nothing in the world any more except Franky's control and Franky's cheap wet fuck-slut. No pretence or responsibility. No politeness. No nice. Nothing but the wildest sexual rush she had ever known.

"You know, bitch. You're cheap and dirty and nasty, you know exactly why I'm doing this. Talk to me. Beg for it."

Franky's hand left her mouth, she heard herself raving like the frantic slut she knew herself to be.

"Stick your fingers inside me, Franky. Fuck me.

"Why?"

"Because I want your fingers there when I come. I want to get off with your fingers in my pussy so you can feel the way you make me throb and cramp. Please, Franky. Please!"

Franky thrust home, no gentle tease just simple forceful fucking.

“You can come for me now, Erica. Come for me ..."

Legs driving her against Franky's sodden skin; arms dragging and pushing at the headboard to work herself there, knowing the muscles were flexing in front of Franky's face, knowing the sight would get her off. Listening to Franky's voice all around her.

"... Every time, Erica. I'm gonna do this every time I let you come; if you need to come I'm going to make you beg for it first. Next time I'm gonna make you crawl -- round and round your floor for me until I get bored and fuck you instead. I'm going to ..."

"Oh Christ, please, Franky. Kiss my tits when I come!"

Soft mouth on hard nipples, sucking and licking as it erupted inside her and she convulsed around Franky's suddenly still fingers. At the exact perfect moment Franky's hand let go of her hair and she felt the arm gently round her shoulder as she collapsed onto the pillow babbling Franky's name. The quietest, gentlest 'shhhhh' against her sweating face. Erica felt more content than she had ever known.


End file.
